Violent Just Because
by WinterDust
Summary: They need to hurt and bleed because otherwise they could be making love. AgonHiru


Author's Note: Review if you enjoyed

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It doesn't help that it's been three fucking years; he's violent about it all because he's trying to hide the trembling of his body and the fact that his fingers are clumsy. There's lust and need and something else reflected in the eyes hidden behind dark lenses, useless and meaningless things that makes him angrier and curse more than usual. Hiruma's gripping his hair and his nails are digging into his scalp, but it doesn't matter because Agon's bigger and stronger and he wants it more.

He doesn't know where his shirt went (it's behind the television and the buttons are scattered all over the hallway), but he's too focused on shredding the cloth in front of him; there's a muttered "Shithead" and the faint smell of blood in the air. But only when he feels the warm press of skin-against-skin does he realize that there's a ripped out clump of his hair on the floor.

Then again, it could be anything in this dark lighting, but the warmth trickling down his neck confirms everything; he slams his opponent against the wall mercilessly and Agon's sure that he's broken something. The trash kicks him in the stomach and hits his head with the butt of his pistol, and Agon grips his neck harder and attempts to suffocate him.

It's brutish and violent, but they both know that they need to fight harder because this isn't make-up sex; they had no relationship to begin with. Hiruma needs to deny and Agon needs to force because they know that they can't _want _this – need this. They need to hurt and bleed because otherwise they could be making love.

There are bruises on the thin neck and there's blood trickling down the remaining hair attached to Agon's scalp (there's a cut above his brow that stings when his frown turns for the worse), both of them are pissed off and trying to hide that everything hurts (maybe even their hearts), because that thing that Agon's hiding behind his glasses is still there –Agon sees it reflected in Hiruma's eyes and Hiruma sees it, too, because it stares back at him from Agon's damn lenses. But in no way does Hiruma feel that he's at a disadvantage because he's the fucking devil –he knows all and sees all- and Agon's never been too good at hiding his emotions.

Both of them ignore it (to acknowledge is to discuss).

The remaining clothes are removed, easily giving away under the weight of desperation; it becomes consensual rape when Agon flips Hiruma over and shoves in, expecting some sort of tearing, a lot of blood, and perhaps a yelp of pain – when there's little resistance and an overwhelming sensation of _slickness_, Agon tries to hide the break of his rhythm by gripping the blond's bony hips and _grinding_ – harder, faster.

"Get off me, dumbass," it sounds so half-assed he knows he's not fooling anyone. His voice is trembling along with his arms and _fuck it all _he can't even support himself.

So Hiruma rests his forehead on his arm, sticking to the role of the victim and the pretense of pain, but _damn it_ he's smirking (since Agon can't see him, anyway) because Hiruma Youichi's predictions are always right – that fucking dreads wouldn't have the patience to stretch him after waiting three years. What he hadn't foreseen, though, is the gentle press of lips on his shoulder that's too tender for this kind of situation. It surprises him so much that he lets slip a low groan and an embarrassing _ah _when Agon slides in and brushes against that all-too-familiar spot. His hips are starting to roll and buck to meet Agon halfway – control is slipping and there are so many more noises in the air: hisses, curses, and sighs laced with pleasure.

Agon's sunglasses are lost now, but it's no longer important because there's no one to see that damn _thing_ creeping into his expression. The trash's back is facing him and everything is safe –

"Heh," he finds it safe enough to taunt (No one can see that he's lying), "…Fucking. Trash."

Hiruma doesn't even bother to address Agon's lack of originality (Genius his bony ass), and Agon thinks it the perfect time to shove the blonde further against the wall, face pressed against the cool plaster, arms no longer shielding his face to allow a firm brace to meet the more forceful thrusts.

"Goddamnit, let me –," there's a loud gasp, "–breath."

But there's no way Agon's stopping now; it only gets more violent and more forceful and – harder, harder, _harder_.

When Hiruma peeks over his shoulders, because it's just weird that Agon's silent all of a sudden, he wishes he hadn't turned around at all, because the way the bastard's eyes are shut and his mouth open is all wrong and out of place – there's no hate or anger and _shit _they're not fooling anyone.

They're wearing their hearts on their sleeves, but they don't acknowledge it, because to acknowledge is to discuss.

Hiruma turns back around and braces (hides) himself – he's getting close and he predicts that Agon isn't going to hold out much longer.

So he allows himself and Agon to continue leaving their most protected thoughts out in the open, just a little longer…just a little longer.

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d.u.s.t.

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He tells Agon later, when they're slumped against the sofa (after yet another relocation) and too close for comfort:

"You're not a good actor –," a familiar cackle, "– fucking dreads."

Agon curses and punches Hiruma in the arm.

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Author's Note: Again, review if you enjoyed!


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